


Caution: swallowing dick may lead to injury - memoirs of a size queen

by raeupchen



Series: Don't try this at home [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward situations, Deepthroating, Derek Has a Big Dick, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Kink, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, but nothing serious, crackish fic, sex related injury, short hospital stay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 22:57:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15350598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raeupchen/pseuds/raeupchen
Summary: “Derek, can you give me my phone? I want to document this memorable moment,” Stiles said, before making grabby motions in the direction of his phone. Derek – unable to deny the other man anything – gave him the device before sitting back in his chair. He only raised one eyebrow when he saw what Stiles was up to. Apparently ‘documenting this memorable moment’ meant for Stiles to take a selfie and post it online. He showed Derek the picture with the caption ‘Dick sent me to the ER’.*now edited*





	Caution: swallowing dick may lead to injury - memoirs of a size queen

**Author's Note:**

> I totally blame [proudandbroken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/proudandbroken/) for urging me to write this fic, but what should you do, when someone sends you a link with “STEREK prompt!” as a caption? Clearly at first refuse, because you still have to finish your monster of a WIP, right? Yeah, something like that and then, a few hours later start the fic either way, but not without a “I totally blame you!” towards your friend.
> 
> So yeah, this fic was inspired by [this](http://czarnyma.tumblr.com/post/175965361246/wisdomandlogicareking-bemusedlybespectacled). I don't make any money of it.  
>  **EDIT:** The lovely [Lady Slytherin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySlytherin/) took the time and edited this story for me. Thank you again for that!  
>  So now it _is_ beta-read, but still any remaining mistakes are my own!
> 
> She also asked me to put up this **Editor's note** :  
> Editor's Note: When editing this, I made the medical stuff a lot more accurate. However, I didn't go into details about the actual repair of the torn trachea - which requires a muscle flap to be taken from somewhere else, to reinforce the repair, as well as two chest tubes - because I didn't want to get into it. So if anyone notices the inaccuracies or the things I didn't mention, I apologize. That's just a lot of medical jargon to cram into a short piece like this.

Derek had been in the process of getting ready to go out with Stiles – to do some _‘bro-thing’_ as Stiles had called it – when the man had suddenly entered Derek’s apartment. How the human was able to sneak up on him, Derek didn’t know.

He also didn’t have time to contemplate that fact, because Stiles was exclaiming, “Holy shit, put that thing away before someone loses an eye here!” Self-consciously, Derek closed his pants and threw Stiles a withering glare. The werewolf knew that he was more than well endowed, but hearing someone say something that crass was always a shock.

“When were you going to tell me, that you were packing that much? Damn, I feel like one of Pavlov’s dogs just thinking about it,” Stiles said dreamily.

Derek wasn’t sure if he had heard that correctly. What the hell was Stiles implying? “As if you could take it,” the werewolf scoffed, trying to make light of the situation while downplaying his confusion.

“Oh, I can and I _will_ , just watch me! Well, as long as you’re okay with that,” Stiles amended.

It wasn’t even a question if Derek was _okay_ with Stiles taking his dick in any capacity, if the twitching in his pants was anything to go by. Unable to give verbal confirmation, Derek nodded, which Stiles took as an invitation to sink to his knees in front of the werewolf. With slightly shaking hands – whether from anticipation or some kind of stage fright, Derek didn’t know – Stiles opened Derek’s pants and shoved them out of the way. It put Stiles face-to-face with the dick of his dreams, and it was a sight for sore eyes, at least in Stiles’ opinion. It was long, thick, and uncut; just how he liked his cocks.

Without further ado, Stiles took Derek’s dick in hand, stroking it for a few moments before starting his first oral exploration of the appendage. Derek’s hands immediately flew to Stiles’ hair, holding the other man in place while he explored the new territory. Derek groaned when Stiles took him into his throat for the first time with just some slight gagging. It didn’t last long before the human had to pull back and take a few deep breaths, but he quickly dove back in.

“Oh god, yes that’s it Stiles,” Derek groaned as Stiles took him into his throat for a second time.

It was unusual for others to be able to get even half of Derek’s dick into their mouth, let alone taking more of it into their throat, so he enjoyed every single moment of it. Stiles seemed to like it, too, if the noises he was making and the way his scent had gone liquid-slick with arousal were anything to go by. At first Derek had doubted Stiles’ could give him a blowjob at all, but the other man was showing Derek how wrong he’d been. Not only was Stiles sucking him off without fear or hesitation, he was actually _deep-throating_ him.

Which brought them to this moment. Stiles, on his knees, with Derek’s dick so far into his throat that Derek had to dig his claws into his palms so he wouldn’t finish too early. He wasn’t a fucking teenager anymore; he should have some restraint _somewhere,_ but it felt too good. He wasn’t sure if Stiles had gone around Jungle and practiced on other guys, or if he’d tried to hone his abilities with fruits and vegetable, but in the end it didn’t really matter. Whatever he’d done, Derek was grateful for it because his technique was excellent.

Suddenly, as Stiles was sucking Derek’s dick back down his throat, Derek noticed that something wasn’t right. He heard a faint _snap_ from somewhere, but couldn’t pinpoint where it had come from. Stiles didn’t seem to notice it, as he was busy feasting on Derek’s cock as if it was the last thing he’d ever take into his mouth. Deciding it had probably been nothing, Derek got back on board, pushing more of his length into the younger man’s mouth until he felt the human swallowing around him. That was all Derek needed and, with a muffled roar (because you wouldn’t want to inform any nearby werewolves of your activities or location), Derek came down Stiles’ throat. Slowly, Stiles let the werewolf slip from his mouth, trying to swallow at the same time. If Derek hadn’t _just_ finished, he would have been hard just from that. It was deeply appealing to his werewolf side when a partner swallowed his release. The act of taking his scent into their own body – mingling it with their own – was intimate in a way he couldn't explain.

As he slowly came back to himself, Derek realized that the scent of _his_ semen wasn’t the only one lingering in the air. Stiles must have finished at the same time as him, or shortly after – and without even touching himself. The scent of Stiles’ release made it very hard for the werewolf not to jump the other man and scent him all over, rolling in their combined scents; mixing them even further.

While Derek was basking in those heady scents – and resisting the urge to scent Stiles’ further – Stiles had let himself fall back onto the floor. He was starfished across the floorboards as if he didn’t plan to get up anytime soon. Not even his soiled pants, which _had_ to be uncomfortable, seemed to be bothering him right then. Just then Derek noticed that something seemed odd about Stiles’ arms and neck. And okay, maybe Stiles’ labored breathing was perfectly reasonable after having had an orgasm, but when you combined it with the other thing...well, Derek was concerned.

“Are you okay?” he asked tentatively, to which Stiles only shrugged.

After a moment’s consideration, Stiles said, “I think so?” His voice sounded rough, and Derek felt his dick twitch a little, preening internally that _he_ had done that.

“It’s just that...your arms seem to be swelling?” Derek had never felt this awkward after a blowjob, but then he’d never had someone swell up after one, either. And it wasn’t just Stiles’ arms; his face and neck seemed to be swelling, too.

“Must be your Hulk juices, pumping me up. Ha, maybe you infected me with your muscles,” Stiles chuckled, causing Derek’s ears to turn red. He shouldn’t be so easily embarrassed, considering he’d just gotten his dick sucked by a friend. Okay, let’s be honest; by his secret crush...which made the embarrassment a _little_ more understandable, anyway.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Derek deadpanned, trying to play it cool. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and upright. Maybe it’s just a trick of the light, or your position.”

Stiles groaned unwillingly, not moving at all. It had Derek rolling his eyes as he pulled up his pants – And how had he forgotten that he was standing there with his dick out, anyway? – before he went in search of a washcloth. When he found one and had wetted it down, he returned to Stiles, who had managed to open his pants and push them down a bit while Derek was gone. It made it easier for the werewolf to wipe him down, at least.

It was kind of remarkable that Derek didn’t try to bury his head in Stiles’ crotch and lick every bit of his cum away, all things considered. But he was civilized, dammit, and used the cloth instead. When that was finished, he tossed the cloth in the general direction of his laundry basket. He would put it in the wash later; he wasn’t expecting any visitors. Then he helped Stiles get up off the floor, growing more concerned as he did so. Because Stiles’ arms didn’t just _look_ strange; they felt strange as well. It was almost like touching tissue paper, and there was a nearly inaudible crackling sound when Derek’s fingers moved over the oddly swollen skin. What the fuck was going on?

“I think I should take you to the hospital,” Derek said hesitantly.

He honestly wasn’t too keen on the idea of going to the hospital with Stiles, because they were going to ask very invasive questions about what had caused this. And yeah, Stiles was an adult, but his dad was still the Sheriff and he still had a _gun._ And Derek knew the nurses gossiped with abandon about anything even the littlest bit scandalous, because Beacon Hills was a fairly small town and there wasn’t a whole lot else to do. Which meant it wouldn’t take long for everyone to hear about this, which Derek wasn’t really prepared to deal with just yet.

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles exclaimed, to which Derek could only shake his head.

Because no, he was completely serious and not entirely happy about it. “Look at your arms, Stiles. Do you think that’s normal?” Derek asked in concern. This was somehow his fault; he just _knew_ it. “Your face is kind of swollen, too.”

“Oh fuck, what the _fuck_ is that?” Stiles half-screeched as he looked at himself. “What the hell caused this? Was it really your freaky werewolf sperm?” Stiles accused Derek with wide, panicked eyes.

“I don’t think so.” As the werewolf had never had anyone react that way to giving him a blow job before, he felt justified when he denied any connection between his bodily fluids and this strangeness. “But...maybe you’re...allergic?” It was possible, right?

Stiles just face-palmed at that. But he did let Derek lead him out of the apartment without any further protests, so Derek was counting it as a win. The drive to the hospital was relatively quiet, which wasn’t what Derek would have expected after a sexual encounter with Stiles. Not that he’d been secretly waiting for forever for that, or anything...and not that he’d imagined it a thousand times, at least. And of course he wouldn’t be telling Stiles _any_ of that, ever.

“I can’t believe your jizz landed me into the hospital,” Stiles muttered under his breath as they were passing through the hospital doors.

“It wasn’t my _jizz,_ Stiles. Or I hope it wasn’t, anyway.” Derek’s reply was half-mumbled and blessedly ignored.

As they approached the front desk, they didn’t even have to say anything. The nurse manning the desk took one look at Stiles and rushed them into an examination room, concern written all over her face. In no time at all, Stiles was decked out in a hospital gown and hooked up to oxygen after the nurse put the little pulse-ox tester on his finger and saw his blood-oxygen level. It wasn’t _dangerously_ low, but it wasn’t exactly _good,_ either. As she was leaving the room, she told them the doctor was on his way. Which didn’t calm Derek at all, because doctors weren’t typically that speedy. Stiles just took it in stride and joked that they should be glad Melissa hadn’t been at the front desk. Derek wasn’t so sure about that, because at least with Melissa they’d have gotten a little more information before being made to wait for the doctor.

Derek wasn’t sure how he should behave. Should he take Stiles’ hand, or was that too forward? But then, what could be too forward about comforting the guy who’d had your dick in his throat not even an hour earlier? Before Derek could spiral down into an endless pit of doubt, someone knocked on the door and a doctor came in. Apparently, Stiles’ condition was that critical that immediate medical attention was necessary. Or maybe it was just a really slow evening.

The doctor introduced himself as Dr. Stevens and asked them what the problem seemed to be. Derek told him that Stiles’ arms, neck, and face had suddenly had begun to swell, as Stiles was in no condition to answer long-winded questions, as his breathing had become more labored while they waited. The doctor examined both Stiles’ arms, neck, and face. He pressed on some of the swollen spots, which seemed to shift under his fingers and caused that odd crackling sound again. Finally, he instructed Stiles to open his mouth and make an “aaah” sound while he looked inside.

Suddenly the doctor reared back and asked in confusion, “Did you shove a huge cucumber down your throat or...? Because I’ve heard of strange dares on the internet, but that’s a new one. I didn’t expect the son of the Sheriff to do something quite that stupid for likes or views or whatever.”

Derek immediately turned an ugly shade of red, while opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Stiles, on the other hand, started to giggle. It looked like it hurt a bit, if the cringing was anything to go by, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

Gasping for air, the younger man finally choked out, “Well, it wasn’t _really_ a dare. Or not one from the internet, anyway.” If it were possible, Derek’s skin flushed even darker at that admission.

“This is no laughing matter, Mr. Stilinski. You seem to have ruptured the lining of your trachea with some sort of trauma, resulting in subcutaneous emphysema. Now, while Macklin’s Syndrome – the common name for subcutaneous emphysema – isn’t that serious, the underlying _cause_ often is.” Dr. Stevens’ voice was firm and just serious enough to calm Stiles’ giggle-fit. “So I need you to tell me if you swallowed something dangerous that might have caused more damage than what I’m seeing right now. Like did you try swallowing a knife or sword? I can’t see any other damage, but if it’s possible that there’s more further down your throat then I’ll need to do a bronchoscopy to be sure,” Dr. Stevens admonished Stiles, who looked a little chagrined, but not at all sorry.

“I didn’t swallow anything _dangerous_ per se, but, well...the idea with the giant cucumber? That’s not too far off.” Stiles began, apparently having lost any sense of shame he might have once had.

“It was actually this guy’s giant dick,” he explained, while pointing at Derek, who immediately wanted to be swallowed by the ground.

 _’Could this day get any worse?’_ he thought, before someone cleared their throat and Melissa entered the room. So that was a yes from the universe, then.

“Did you need any help, Doctor?” she asked. Right at that moment, Derek wouldn’t have been opposed to being shot with wolfsbane bullets. It would have been preferable to being in the same room as the mother-figure of the guy who’d managed to destroy an airway while choking on his cock.

“Well, we need an OR prepped. Mr. Stilinski is going to have to have surgery to repair the damage to his trachea and the sooner the better, because the longer we wait the worse the Macklin’s Syndrome is likely to get,” the doctor told her, still a little taken aback by Stiles’ admission, which _she_ took in stride.

But the look she threw in Derek and Stiles’ directions told them that they’d have some major explaining to do at a later date. Melissa left the room again and Derek felt Stiles grabbing his hand. And _of course_ Derek knew Stiles wasn’t comfortable in hospitals, but he’d pushed that information to the back of his mind until that moment because the concern for Stiles’ well-being had overridden everything else. Now, he squeezed Stiles’ hand gently, trying to comfort the other man without words. They were in this together. If it were possible, Derek would change places with Stiles, so he wouldn’t have to go through this.

“What are you going to do?” Derek asked. He was sure that Stiles wanted to know what the doctor was about to do, but was too afraid to ask himself.

“Well, we’re going to use a small scope to see what the exact damage is, and then we’re going to close up the tear in the trachea. It shouldn’t take too long as it’s a fairly simple procedure, barring any further complications,” Dr. Stevens told them. “Then it’ll just be a matter of waiting for the air that’s leaked out from your chest into the layer of tissue just under your skin to be reabsorbed into your body. Yours doesn’t seem to be serious enough to merit us speeding the process along, and so long as you can breathe okay, we should be able to let nature take care of that part. In the meantime, should we call anyone for you?”

“No, uh...it’s okay. Derek can call my dad while you’re operating me,” Stiles croaked. “No point in making a staff member do it, considering.”

Derek, for his part, wasn’t too keen on the idea of calling the Sheriff to tell him that his only son was in the hospital. But it was the least he could do, seeing as he was responsible for Stiles’ being there, however accidentally. Just then the door opened again and Melissa came back to tell them the OR was ready. Then they were taking Stiles with them, leaving Derek behind to call the Sheriff.

 

____________________

Just as the doctor had said, the procedure didn’t take very long. When Stiles was released from surgery, Derek was still waiting for the Sheriff to arrive. So he sat silently by Stiles’ bedside, waiting for the other man to wake up. This time, Derek heard the person who eventually knocked on the door as they were approaching. It turned out to be the Sheriff, who was still in his uniform. Which made sense, seeing as Derek had reached him at work. That was no doubt what had taken so long for him to get to the hospital; it wasn’t as though he could just drop whatever he was doing. At the very least, he’d have needed to get ahold of one of his deputies to have them cover the rest of his shift. At worst, he’d have had to finish out the shift himself. And honestly, Derek wasn’t sure which one he’d done.

“How is he?” the Sheriff whispered, as if he didn’t want to disturb Stiles while he slept, even though he knew his son could sleep through pretty much anything.

“According to the doctor everything went well and they’re expecting him to wake up pretty soon,” Derek answered, voice low as well.

He hoped the Sheriff wouldn’t ask how his son had been injured, because Derek couldn’t – or rather, _wouldn’t_ – lie to the man. He respected him too much for that. But he also didn’t want to explain what they’d been up to when Stiles got hurt. It had been mortifying enough to hear Stiles explain everything to the doctor, but telling the _father_ of the man he’d (unwittingly) injured while receiving oral sex was not something he was looking forward to.

“Stop looking like you’re waiting for me to execute you, son. Right now, I don’t even want to know how Stiles got here. I’m just happy he’s okay,” Sheriff Stilinski told Derek, who could immediately breathe a little easier.

Stiles, of course, chose that moment to wake up. He blinked, seeming a little disoriented before he smiled in Derek’s direction and slurred out a small and dopey, “Heyy”.

Derek couldn’t help himself; he smiled back, glad Stiles had finally woken up, even if he seemed to be high as a kite still.

“Your dad is here,” Derek told Stiles, who looked away from Derek in search of his father.

“Heeey dad,” Stiles smiled brightly, most assuredly still being affected by the drugs he’d been given during and after his surgery. “Wazzup?”

The Sheriff rolled his eyes fondly, before taking his son’s hand and squeezing it gently. “Not much. How are you feeling?” he asked, to which Stiles only made an okay motion with his hands.

Derek wanted to take some of the pain away, but wasn’t sure how wise that would be. Doctors used pain-scales to help treat patients, after all.

“That’s good. I’m going to leave so you can catch some sleep, okay? I’ll be back tomorrow, but I just got off shift and I will pass out in this awful chair and likely throw out my back otherwise,” Stilinski explained, when Stiles seemed ready to protest him leaving. “I’m sure Derek can stay with you until I get back, okay?” To that Stiles nodded, before he sunk back into his pillow and let the drugs pull him back under.

“I’ll stay with him all night,” Derek promised, before he settled back into his chair.

“You do that,” the Sheriff said, before he left the room to go home.

____________________

 

The next day, Stiles looked better. He still wore the hospital gown and needed an oxygen mask, but he was way more alert and even joking around.

“Derek, can you give me my phone? I want to document this memorable moment,” Stiles said, before making grabby motions in the direction of his phone.

Derek – who was unable to deny the other man anything – gave him the device before sitting back in his chair. He only raised one eyebrow when he saw what Stiles was up to. Apparently _‘documenting this memorable moment’_ meant Stiles taking a selfie and posting it online. He showed Derek the picture with the caption: _‘Dick sent me to the ER’._ Derek wasn’t sure what he wanted to do after reading that, as there were two options. A) Sink into the floor. or B) Strangle Stiles. As he’d damaged the other’s airway enough the night before, Derek opted for hoping the floor would open up and swallow him. When that didn’t happen, he settled for glaring in Stiles’ direction.

“Really?” he asked in frustration.

“What? You have to admit, it’s pretty funny,” was Stiles’ easy reply.

“Yeah, totally. Until your dad finds out and kills me,” the werewolf muttered.

“Oh, come on, Sourwolf. I’m an adult. He’s not going to kill you for choking me with your dick and rupturing something. My dad was present multiple times as I shoved huge things down my throat without thinking of the risks, this isn’t exactly unexpected territory.”

Derek sincerely hoped that Stiles knew how _wrong_ it sounded when he said it like that, because he wasn’t going to be the one who pointed it out.

“Still that’s slightly different,” Derek insisted, but Stiles only rolled his eyes and ignored him.

Just then, Stiles phone pinged with a notification alert. Stiles read it, then his eyes narrowed. “Oh no that asshole didn’t,” the human muttered, before angrily starting to type.

“What’s up?” Derek asked in concern, wondering if something was wrong with one of Stiles’ friends.

“Well there’s this guy...at least, I think it’s a guy? Dunno, not important. Anyway, they accused me of having a weak throat game, because your dick sent me to the ER. Can you drop your pants? I want to send him proof of how **strong** my throat game is!” Stiles exclaimed clearly agitated.

Derek just raised his eyebrows and refused to drop his pants in the hospital, especially because Stiles only wanted a picture of _his dick_ to prove a point. “Can’t you just tell him?” Derek asked, in a weak attempt at diverting Stiles’ focus.

“If I _have_ to,” Stiles said, his tone long-suffering, but he obligingly tapped away at the screen. Finally, he huffed, “There, are you happy?”

Derek read over Stiles’ first tweet. _‘It’s actually STRONG cause the dude was a whole ten inches’_ – at that, Derek’s chest puffed up a little, sue him – _‘took the whole thing down my throat multiple times, but his dick ruptured an airway and caused loose air to leak into my neck, chest and underarms’._ And then the next one, which said: _‘AND I finished him off so next’._ Derek could feel his face burning as he flushed an ugly shade of red at Stiles’ candid words, even though he was slightly proud, too. Though of which one of them, Derek wasn’t entirely sure.

“I’m beginning to think the picture would have been less embarrassing,” Derek mumbled, though he was glad Stiles was feeling well enough to argue with strangers online.

“If you’re willing, I’d already had some captions in mind. Like _‘Customer Warning: Choking Hazard’_ or _‘What does this dick have in common with a Kinder egg? They can both lead to choking to death.’_ or else _‘They both should be illegal in the US.’_.” Stiles said cheerfully.

When Derek refused to even acknowledge these ideas, he pouted, but Derek wasn’t moved by it. Those clearly would’ve been more embarrassing than anything else that might be said, by Stiles or anyone seeing his posts. Though Derek was hoping that neither of his sisters was following Stiles online, as he truly believed they’d never let him live this incident down.

“You know, when I get out of here and the doc clears me and all, we should totally have a repeat performance,” Stiles said casually after they’d been sitting in silence for a while.

Derek nearly fell out of chair in a Stiles-like fashion, before clearing his throat and answering with forced casualty, “Sure, I’m down for that.”

“Really? You’re down for that? Not... _up_ for it?” Stiles asked with a wink, which made Derek’s blush reappear.

 _’Why do I like the little fucker again?’_ Derek wondered.

____________________

 

During his hospital stay, Stiles explained to Derek the usefulness of Twitter and other social media and urged Derek to create his own accounts. The end result of which was that Derek – after prodding from both Laura and Cora – went shopping for some new shirts, then decided it would be a good idea to upload some pics of him modeling them. Mostly to impress Stiles a little, though he would _never_ admit as much.

It didn’t take long for Stiles to reply to the tweet with an indecent, _‘Wow choke me with those biceps please’_. Of course it had to be Stiles saying it because who else would demand something like that? Derek didn’t even dignify it with a response, too used to Stiles’ _Stiles-ness_. What he didn’t expect was being mentioned in another tweet from some random guy, who was asking Stiles if his ruptured airway hadn’t gone through enough. This time Derek was itching to reply, but he managed to refrain. Mostly because everything that went through his mind would be far from nice and he had no desire to get into an online fight with some random stranger.

He also didn’t expect to receive a message from Stiles asking if Derek had time for that _repeat performance_ he’d mentioned. Never in his life had Derek answered a text as fast as he did at that moment. If Stiles wanted to fuck some stupid strangers’ reminders of a not-so-glorious time in his life away, Derek was absolutely up for that. In more ways than one. Thankfully, it didn’t take Stiles too long to arrive at Derek’s apartment, because with every minute that passed the danger of Derek starting – and possibly finishing – without him rose exponentially.

So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Derek greeted Stiles at the front door and immediately proceeded to kiss Stiles breathless. The other man took Derek’s enthusiasm in stride and gave as good as he got, clutching at Derek’s shoulders and trying to get rid of one of the older man’s new shirts as fast as possible, _without_ ripping it to shreds.

“Get it off,” Stiles all but growled

Derek happily complied, right before attacking Stiles’ neck. Meanwhile, Stiles was trying to get Derek’s jeans open, but the werewolf wasn’t having any of it. Instead he put his hands on Stiles’ ass and hauled the younger man up. Once he’d cleared the door frame, Derek pressed Stiles against the door, closing it at the same time. There was no need to give his neighbors a show, after all.

“This time you’re going to come from _me_ touching you, or not at all. Is that clear?” Derek asked, waiting for a confirmation from the human.

If Stiles wasn’t on board, they would have to reevaluate because Derek had _plans._ Luckily, Stiles nodded and stripped off his own shirt at the same time, clearly eager. He managed to get himself tangled in the long sleeves of his overshirt, though, trapping the undershirt around his head and making for an awkward - but endearing - bit of flailing that would likely have landed him on the floor if Derek hadn't been holding him up. For a few seconds, Derek debated slicing through the fabric with his claws, but eventually he decided against it and instead helped Stiles untangle himself. With both of them finally shirtless, Stiles took the opportunity to explore the expanse of Derek’s smooth and muscular shoulders before gripping them and giving an obscene roll of his hips. The movement caused Derek to groan and attack the human’s neck once more, restraint little more than a memory at that point.

“So, are we just going to just stand here or are you actually going to fuck me?” Stiles asked provocatively, the words panted out around his unsteady breathing.

Derek didn’t bother to give a verbal answer. Instead, he gripped Stiles’ ass more firmly and proceeded to carry him into his bedroom. Once there, he dropped the human onto the bed before hastily stripping off his own pants. He reveled in the widening of Stiles’ eyes as the other man realized that Derek had gone commando. Smirking, Derek then opened Stiles’ pants and tugged them – and his underwear – down those long, lean legs. When he was finished stripping Stiles, he took in the sight before him. Stiles was flushed from head-to-toe and spread out on his bed, breathing heavily and looking like he never wanted to be anywhere else, ever again. It was a sight Derek was determined to commit to memory.

“You look so good,” Derek said, stroking his own cock and enjoying the blush that darkened Stiles’ cheeks even further. Derek knew that Stiles had been in charge the last time, but in this moment it was Derek who held all the power. Thankfully, Stiles seemed to be enjoying the role-reversal.

“So, how do you want to do this?” Stiles asked, not able to tear his eyes away from Derek’s right hand.

“Me above you and you on your back…” Derek started, then shook his head because he was large and Stiles would be able to take him easier on his hands and knees. “No, no. With you on your hands and knees...”

Then Stiles licked his lips, amber eyes wide and dark and appealing, and Derek shook his head again. “No, on your back. I want to be able to see your face when I’m sliding into you,” Derek declared, enjoying the widening of Stiles’ pupils before he added, “that way I’ll notice if I manage to injure you again.”

At the last comment, Derek couldn’t help himself. He had to smirk, loving that he was comfortable enough to tease Stiles like that. And this time around, there wouldn’t be a trip to the ER. Not if Derek could help it, anyway.

“If I’d known a few pictures of me in some new shirts and a stupid comment from some stranger got you going, I would’ve gone shopping way sooner,” Derek teased, before finally crawling onto the mattress and between Stiles’ legs, which parted readily to grant him access.

“What can I say? Your biceps are a national treasure and that stupid asshole reminded me that we had some business to attend to.”

Before Stiles could say anything else, Derek leaned down and kissed him again. As much as he loved Stiles’ ramblings, right now Derek was much more interested in getting inside the younger man. Talk was cheap; it could wait. Derek _couldn't._ Blindly, Derek searched under his pillow for his lube. When that didn’t yield any results, he stopped kissing Stiles – much to the other man’s disappointment – and started actively looking for it instead.

“Derek, come on, I don’t need it,” Stiles tried wheedling, but Derek had learned from their past experience not to trust Stiles opinion on such things so he ignored him in favor of opening his bedside drawer, where he _finally_ found the bottle. He couldn’t remember putting it in there, but shrugged it off. At least he still had some and wouldn’t need to go on a lube run.

“You absolutely need this,” Derek said sternly, before squeezing some of the stuff onto his fingers and resettling between Stiles’ thighs.

With a questioning look for Stiles – who nodded with a small smile –, Derek started to circle Stiles’ hole. He noticed with some surprise that the ring of muscle was giving under his fingertips with only the slightest bit of pressure. Curiously, Derek pressed in with a single finger. Sure enough, it slipped in with ease, earning him a soft moan and the faintest canting of hips from Stiles.

“Told you I don’t need it...” Stiles panted softly. “I was fingering myself while looking at those pictures you posted.”

Stiles’ admission seemed to short circuit something in Derek’s brain, stripping away his control. He couldn’t help himself and added a second finger far more quickly than he normally would, resulting in a louder moan from Stiles followed by a hoarse demand for more. Not wanting to disappoint his partner, Derek complied and added a third finger almost immediately, groaning a little at the way Stiles’ body opened up to take them readily. Finally, Derek began to twist and spread his fingers, stretching Stiles that little bit extra he’d need to take Derek comfortably. And Stiles seemed to love every second, if the way he writhed and moaned and pushed back against Derek’s thick fingers was anything to go by.

Derek was so intensely focused on opening Stiles for his dick that he didn’t even notice Stiles was touching himself until some precome dribbled down on Derek’s hand. Immediately, Derek stopped what he was doing and looked up Stiles’ body, seeing the hand wrapped around Stiles’ cock. He let his eyes skim further up, taking in the blissed out expression on the younger man’s face.

“I thought I said that you’re going to come from _my_ touch,” Derek rumbled in a slightly menacing way, which didn’t seem to deter Stiles any. Instead, his dick produced another wave of precome, driving Derek’s wolf crazy.

“Couldn’t help myself, it felt too good. But I’m ready. Give it to me big guy, come on,” Stiles demanded.

Derek was hard pressed not to comply, because Stiles had to know when he was ready, right? But Derek wasn’t stupid, and Stiles had shown a distinct lack of self-preservation instinct already. So when Derek pulled his fingers out of Stiles’ ass, he immediately wrapped them around his own cock, slicking the leftover lube over himself to make things just that _little bit_ easier.

“Okay, it’s alright, baby. I’m going to slide in now and we’re going to take it slow, okay? No rushing!” Derek admonished, before positioning himself right at Stiles’ hole and pushing forward inch-by-agonizing-inch. It felt absolutely incredible. Far better than just sliding his fingers into Stiles to open him up. And better than shoving his dick down Stiles’ throat, though that had been a close second. Stiles was clearly enjoying it too, moaning so loud that Derek worried his neighbors might call the police with a noise complaint. And still, Derek went slowly; pushed in by the smallest increments to allow Stiles’ body time to adjust. When Derek was finally buried to the hilt, he rested his forehead against Stiles’. He breathed deeply, refusing to let his hips so much as twitch until the certainty that he was going to come _now_ finally passed. The way Stiles had started to squirm wasn’t helping Derek’s control any, either.

“Stiles, if you don’t hold still and give me a minute, this is going to be over way faster than either of us would like.” Derek bit the words out through gritted teeth, which thankfully stilled Stiles’ wiggling.

“Sorry, it just...it feels _so_ good, and I...god, I need you to move, please Derek...” Stiles begged, which wasn’t really any better than his squirming had been. But Derek complied, knowing that if he finished too soon, he could rely on his werewolf refractory period to give Stiles the satisfaction he deserved because there was _no way_ he was refusing Stiles anything when he sounded like _that._

At first, Derek moved slowly, letting them both adjust to the new sensations. Slowly, his thrusts gained force and depth, the gradually increasing tempo ensuring neither of them became overwhelmed too soon. Stiles clung to Derek’s shoulders and sat up, repositioning them until he was sitting on Derek’s lap, the werewolf’s legs folded under himself where he was still kneeling on the bed. The new position let Stiles kiss him with ease, his fingers digging into said shoulders on particularly good thrusts.

Supporting himself with one hand stretched behind himself while the other held Stiles’ ass, Derek leaned slightly back and thrust up into the other man with more force. Stiles’ delighted moans vibrated against Derek’s tongue and ensured him he was doing all the right things. Further proving that point, Stiles braced his hands more firmly against Derek’s shoulders and bounced on his lap in counterpoint to Derek’s own brutal thrusts until the human finally spurted over Derek’s stomach, nearly hitting him in the chin with his ejaculate. Spurred on by the thick, musky scent of Stiles’ release, Derek couldn’t help himself. His hips sped up their thrusting one last time, before he spilled himself inside the hot clutch of Stiles’ body. And just like the last time, Derek finished with a sound far too close to a _roar_ to be called anything else.

Exhausted, Derek let himself fall onto his back, taking Stiles with him. Stiles immediately snuggled up on Derek’s chest, though not without complaining about the mess between them. Derek could only chuckle at the sleepy grumbling because if that was the worst of Stiles’ complaints, then Derek was happy. They both drifted off a little, until there was a knock on the front door. Not expecting anyone Derek refused to move, because it was probably just a Jehovah's Witness or someone trying to get him to switch cable providers or something. When the knock sounded again, this time far more vigorously, Derek growled in annoyance and realized he was going to have to get up. He untangled himself from Stiles and pushed the other man onto the bed, which resulted in angry mutterings at losing his personal snuggle-toy.

“Sorry, there’s someone at the door.”

Derek grabbed some shorts and a t-shirt from his closet even as he apologized. If the visitor was a werewolf, they would just have to live with the scent of sex and satisfaction that Derek was emanating as he felt way too smug to wash it away. Besides, if the force of the knocks was anything to go by, it was urgent enough that Derek felt justified in not taking the time to do so. If it was life-or-death, the scent of Stiles’ come was going to be the least of their concerns.

Until the day that he died, Derek would regret not bothering to check who was on the other side of his door before he opened it. As it turned out, it was the Sheriff, looking all serious and businesslike until he took in Derek’s disheveled appearance.

“Derek, I’m sorry to uh...disturb you. It’s just that there were some noise complaints from other tenants in the building,” the Sheriff said apologetically. “Could you and your partner please keep the volume down, when...” He didn’t finish his sentence, instead trailing off as his eyes widened. Considering his gaze had gone past Derek’s shoulder, Derek’s first urge was to slam the door shut, not needing to turn around to know what the man was seeing.

“Oh. Hey dad,” he heard Stiles say cheerfully and Derek sincerely hoped he’d at least found something to put on before he’d stepped out of Derek’s bedroom, probably to go to the bathroom.

“Hi Stiles,” the Sheriff sighed, before turning back to Derek. “See that he doesn’t end up in the hospital again, will you?” With that, he turned on his heel and strode down the hallway towards the stairs. Derek closed the door again and turned to face Stiles, thanking god for small mercies because Stiles had at least chosen to put on his boxers before venturing into the living room.

Sitting casually on the couch, Stiles asked, “What was my dad doing here?”

Derek huffed out a short laugh before crossing the room and sinking into the cushions beside Stiles. “He told me that my partner and I need to keep the volume down during sex. Oh, and he warned me that you better not end up in the hospital again.” Derek buried his face in his hands, because _fuck his life,_ seriously. Could the day get any stranger?

“Well, then. Maybe next time we should try something with gags.. For _both_ of us, Mr. Howl-at-the-Peak-of-My-Pleasure,” Stiles laughed.

Derek’s head swung around so fast he was sure that – had he been human – he’d have given himself whiplash. As it was, he could only gape at Stiles. Did that mean what he thought it meant?

“What?” Derek asked intelligently.

“Oh, well. I just thought maybe you’d want to do that again. Maybe with dinner and a movie beforehand this time?” Stiles asked, still smiling and clearly amused at Derek’s inability to comprehend. “I didn’t rupture my airway just for this to be a one time – well now _two_ time – thing, you know?”

Well _now_ Derek did.

Instead of answering verbally, he snuggled up to Stiles and kissed him softly on the mouth. _’Maybe this whole mess was worth it,’_ Derek thought.

Then Stiles said, “I won’t ever get a date with another guy anyway. Not that I’d want to, but that’s not the point. The point is, did you know that they call me the _‘blow job guy’_ on the internet now? I’ve gone _viral,_ Derek. I’m never living this down now.”

Derek could only roll his eyes at this; Stiles sure knew how to sweet-talk a guy. He was a true romantic, obviously.

“And I stand by my word,” Stiles continued, though his words were getting thicker as he wound down, “your dick should come with a warning label. _’Will make you unable to accept other dicks in your life.’_ or something,” Stiles mumbled sleepily. See? The guy was romance personified.


End file.
